


sorry, and other signs

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Asshole!Enjolras, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deaf Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 01:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras can't stand that one friend of Bahorel's who sits in the back during their meetings and never contributes. Then he finds out that Grantaire is actually deaf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sorry, and other signs

**Author's Note:**

> The sign language used in this fic is **LSF** (Langue des Signes Française), considering the characters are French. I've left links to the resources I used when researching in the notes at the end of this fic, for anyone who is interested.

They're sitting in the back corner again. Enjolras tries not to look as he continues with his speech, wishing he _had_ opted for the powerpoint that Courfeyrac had talked him out of, because statistics always have that little bit more of an impact when they're visual instead of verbal. The figures of what the university had promised in order to fund the clubs and communities on campus, versus the actual money they'd given, are dramatically different but even as Enjolras reads them out, he knows that they'd be stirring more of a reaction if only he'd put it in a graph.

"My concern," Enjolras concludes, "is that none of the clubs I've spoken to have been given the amount of money they'd been promised, but nobody else is _getting_ the money. It begs the question of where exactly the money's going."

He glances around the room, to see if his words have had any impact at all. His gaze inevitably settles in the back corner of the room and he has to suppress a growl of irritation as he looks away.

He doesn't know who the guy is, sitting at the small table at the back, just that he'd come with Bahorel a couple of weeks ago and has decided to stay, even though he clearly doesn't listen to a single word Enjolras is saying. He's usually just sitting with a sketchbook open in front of him, exchanging smirks with Bahorel. They might not talk, but that doesn't make them any less distracting.

Courfeyrac picks up the thread of conversation then, mentioning that the money's probably going straight into the pockets of the university board. That, at least, sets off a conversation about how this is unacceptable and that they'll need to look more closely at just how much money the university has kept for itself. Enjolras appreciates it; Courfeyrac has always been much better than him at getting other people involved.

Bahorel joins in a bit but his friend remains silent, not even bothering to follow the conversation as he drinks from the bottle in front of him and goes back to sketching. Enjolras doesn't know why it bothers him so much, or why it has bothered him at every single meeting since Bahorel first brought his friend along.

Their meetings are meant to be welcome to everyone. That's why Marius had stayed, upon Courfeyrac's insistence, after he and Enjolras had argued over everything from politics to the Musain's coffee when they'd first met. A different in opinion means an opportunity to learn. The pure apathy he gets from Bahorel's friend is a different matter entirely. He does nothing more than take up space, distract Bahorel, and Enjolras doesn't think he's seen the guy interacting with _anyone_.

Of course, Enjolras is proven wrong at the end of the meeting, when everyone is going their separate ways. Bahorel is leading the way out, his friend right behind him, and Courfeyrac waves at them.

"Bahorel! Grantaire!" He walks over and smiles brightly, looking directly at Grantaire as he speaks. "It was good to see you again this week."

Grantaire nods, and Enjolras scowls. He doesn't know why Courfeyrac is encouraging Grantaire when he contributes nothing, but Courfeyrac is kind and caring in a way that Enjolras knows he is not. 

Enjolras walks after them as they exit the café and clears his throat, speaking loud enough that Grantaire should hear. "Hey. Why do you come to our meetings when you never have anything to contribute?"

He sees Bahorel tense slightly, but Grantaire doesn't respond at all, continuing to walk away. Being ignored at meetings, frustrating as it can be, is something that Enjolras can ignore. Being ignored when he's actively trying to speak to someone, however, is a different matter entirely.

" _Hey_." He raises his voice. "I'm talking to you."

"Enjolras…" Courfeyrac begins, but Enjolras isn't in the mood to give Grantaire the benefit of the doubt any longer.

"Don't you ignore me, it's bad enough that you're taking up space at our meetings, but—"

He's about to reach out for Grantaire's shoulder when Bahorel whirls around, knocking Enjolras' hand away.

"Don't you fucking touch him," Bahorel snarls, looming over him. "Anything else you have to say? I'd love to pass on a message so he knows just what kind of a person you are."

Enjolras frowns, taken aback by Bahorel's reaction. He knows that Bahorel is quick to start fights, especially on behalf of his friends, but Enjolras has never been on _this_ side of one of them before.

Grantaire has turned around now, his eyes going wide when he sees Enjolras there, as if only just noticing him. He touches Bahorel's elbow with a questioning look and Bahorel shakes his head in reply, mouthing, "Don't worry."

Bahorel then turns to Enjolras and only scowls at the confusion on Enjolras' face. "What's your fucking problem? He can't hear you, jackass. He's deaf."

" _Oh_." Enjolras' eyes go wide. "Oh. I had no idea. I just assumed—I'm so ashamed. I'm sorry."

Bahorel doesn't reply, signing to Grantaire, no doubt explaining the situation. Enjolras hates to think what Bahorel is saying about him, even if he deserves all of it. Grantaire signs back, eyebrows raised, and then smiles. He doesn't look angry at all when he turns to Enjolras, and that is a small miracle in itself.

"Will you teach me how to sign 'sorry'?" Enjolras asks desperately. "Please. I had no idea."

Bahorel narrows his eyes at Enjolras, considering it for a moment before he finally nods. "Yeah, okay. First thing you do is hold your fist out like this, turned towards you. Thumb and pinky extended."

"Like this?" Enjolras mirrors him, and Grantaire snorts, quiet and amused. Bahorel smirks at Enjolras, and it makes him suspicious. "…What?"

Grantaire touches Enjolras' elbow to get his attention and grins at him before mouthing, "Stupid."

Bahorel looks unrepentant when Enjolras glares at him. "What? You fucking deserved it."

Grantaire touches Enjolras' elbow for his attention again and then holds his palms out flat in front of him and rubs them in circles, mouthing, "Sorry."

"Sorry," Enjolras murmurs, mimicking him. "I'm really sorry."

Grantaire smiles again, shaking his head.

Courfeyrac walks over to join them, and Enjolras turns to him. "You knew that Grantaire's deaf."

"Yup." He sighs, then pats Enjolras' back. "You'd know too, if you actually tried introducing yourself to the new people at meetings."

Courfeyrac is talking slower than normal—just as he had been earlier. Enjolras turns to Grantaire. "You lipread?"

Grantaire nods. He looks as if he wants to explain, but hesitates and then looks to Bahorel.

"R doesn't like signing in public," Bahorel tells them. "Brings attention to the fact that he's deaf. He doesn't usually volunteer that information, as you probably know by now. Usually gets by with lip-reading when he can follow a conversation. If there are too many people talking at once…"

Enjolras thinks back to the way Grantaire had turned his attention to his drink and sketchbook when they'd all started talking at the same time. He feels guilty, despite the fact that he hadn't known back then.

"Where can I learn sign language?" Enjolras asks, looking at Bahorel. He thinks he sees Grantaire smile from the corner of his eye, but doesn't check. 

"I'll send you a whole bunch of information, if you want," Bahorel says. "My sister's deaf. Met R because he went to school with her. Easiest way to learn is to keep practicing. R, you won't mind practicing a bit of sign language with him, would you?"

Bahorel signs the last bit and Grantaire grins widely, shaking his head slowly. He holds a hand out and it's warm when Enjolras takes it, the tips of his fingers darkened from his pencil. Their handshake is firm, and Enjolras finds himself smiling. He's looking forward to this.

«·»

The next day, Enjolras sets about making the Musain more welcoming to Grantaire. They use the upstairs lounge for their meetings as well as when they're just hanging out, and there's a large chalkboard on one wall. The food and drinks menu had been written onto it a long time ago, but it's faded into something patchy and unreadable over time.

Enjolras borrows the set of chalks and a menu from behind the counter to fix it up and make everything easier to read. Combeferre arrives while Enjolras is carefully writing up the light snacks menu, offering to help but then not pushing when Enjolras doesn't reply.

Bahorel and Grantaire come next, when Enjolras has smudges of coloured chalk all over his hand. Grantaire stands at the tops of the stairs, taking in the scene in front of him with a grin. He walks across the room, picking up a few sticks of the coloured chalk, and begins to illustrate what Enjolras has already written up. They work together, catching each other's gaze now and then, until the entire menu is written and illustrated.

"I did this for you," Enjolras tells him, careful to speak slowly so that Grantaire can read his lips. 

Grantaire's smile grows and he signs slowly, touching his fingers to his stubbled chin as he mouths, "Thank you."

Enjolras grins, pleased with himself, and Grantaire picks the chalk up again, writing in a blank space in the corner, "This was very kind of you and I appreciate it, but I've already memorised the menu here."

"Oh." Enjolras is extremely conscious of the way his shoulders slump at that. Grantaire catches his wrist before he can move away, his chalk-covered fingers leaving a coloured pattern behind on Enjolras' wrist, just as effortlessly beautiful as the illustrations on the chalkboard.

"Thank you," Grantaire signs again, and there's a sincere look in his eyes. He rubs the message of the board and writes, "After the meeting today, I'm going to teach you the sign alphabet."

"I look forward to it," Enjolras says, and Grantaire gives him a brilliant smile.

Their meeting this afternoon is a short one, more social and much less formal. Grantaire sits at the back of the room, between Bahorel and Joly, and watches Enjolras closely as he speaks.

Enjolras is not the type of person to feel self-conscious very often, but he finds himself increasingly aware of how quickly he is talking, and makes an effort to speak clearly. When a bunch of them start speaking at once, Enjolras holds a hand up.

"One at a time," he tells them, carefully not looking in Grantaire's direction. "To make things easier to follow."

Courfeyrac catches his eye and smiles approvingly, and Enjolras smiles back. When he glances in Grantaire's direction a while later, he's pleased to see that he's actually following the conversation this time, his expression blank but his eyes focused. 

Once the meeting's over, Grantaire gets up and walks over to Enjolras' desk, sitting opposite to him. Enjolras immediately sets his papers aside, turning to Grantaire eagerly.

"Now?"

Grantaire lifts one shoulder in a shrug and mouths, "If you want."

"I do," Enjolras replies, and watches as Grantaire signs each letter of the alphabet, mouthing it and pausing long enough for Enjolras to sign it back at him before moving on.

They get to the end before the others start crowing around them to watch. Enjolras half-hears Bahorel explaining that Grantaire's deaf to the others, and he is pleased when they all pull chairs up around the table to learn as well. Grantaire grins at all of them, starting from A again.

Feuilly learns faster than anyone else, and then Marius. They help to teach the others and Enjolras flushes with embarrassment as he realises just how bad he is at picking up new languages. He keeps forgetting a different letter each time he goes through the alphabet, until Grantaire focuses his attention on Enjolras, helping him through until he gets everything right.

They all end up staying much later than they'd planned, as Grantaire teaches them basic phrases, numbers, and then checks if they still remember the alphabet. He looks incredibly happy and when people are finally packing their things to head off, Bahorel takes Enjolras aside.

"You've made Grantaire feel comfortable here, with everyone. Not often that happens—I'm pretty sure this is the biggest group he's signed to since school. I really appreciate it, Enjolras. You're a good guy."

"I'm glad that he can feel comfortable here," Enjolras replies with a smile. He glances over at Grantaire, who is currently grinning at Bossuet, who has accidentally hit himself in the face while signing. "I'm glad he knows he's welcome."

Grantaire walks over to Enjolras before leaving and takes his phone out. He looks up at Enjolras, thumbs tapping at his screen as he mouths, "Do you text?"

Enjolras nods, taking his own phone out so they can exchange numbers. His phone buzzes immediately with a new message.

 **Grantaire:** Much easier like this! :)

Enjolras smiles, putting his phone back in his pocket.

"See you later," he signs, because at least that's one that he can get right.

Grantaire signs the same in reply, and then something much more complicated that is entirely lost on Enjolras. He grins at Enjolras' look of confusion and waves before leaving.

"I'm proud of you," Combeferre tells him as they walk home. "From what Bahorel tells me, you made a big change to Grantaire's life today."

"I don't deserve the credit for it," Enjolras replies. "It's thanks to everyone joining in. That's what made the difference. I think I held the group up, if anything."

Combeferre chuckles lightly at that. "You aren't good at something? The horror."

"There are plenty of things that I'm not good at," Enjolras replies, "but this feels _important_. I need to get it, and I'm frustrated that it's taking me so long to remember even the simplest things."

At least with Grantaire's number, they can text each other and communicate more efficiently. They can get to know each other like this, without Enjolras stumbling over every other word.

Enjolras spends hours texting back and forth with Grantaire that night. He intends for it to be a brief chat while he sits on the couch, watching the documentary that Combeferre has picked out for the night, but fifteen minutes it, it turns into a debate. Their messages get longer, their arguments more carefully constructed, and Enjolras can't help but admire the precision with which Grantaire can dismantle his arguments. Particularly considering that when Enjolras had asked what Grantaire's plans were for the night, he'd sent back a photo of the two bottles of wine he was drinking his way through, on his own.

He's still texting Grantaire when the documentary ends and Combeferre raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn't ask.

"Grantaire," Enjolras explains anyway. "He doesn't believe in _anything_ and it's so incredibly frustrating. It's not that he doesn't want the same world that we do, and I can see that, it's just that he doesn't think we'll _get_ it. No matter how hard we try, we're just not going to make a difference."

Combeferre hums in thought. "Well, that does explain why you've been texting non-stop. Arguing, I presume?"

"He's frustratingly good at coming up with counter-arguments," Enjolras mutters, and grabs for his phone when it buzzes again.

"To be fair, he deals with much more discrimination than either of us do," Combeferre points out. "I know that this is much easier said than done, but if you ignore the way your father treats you just because you're gay, you do come from a good socio-economic background, you don't have to deal with racism, and you aren't part of any other groups we fight for. I'm not saying that discrimination against homosexuality is anything _lesser_ but… Bahorel said it himself. Grantaire doesn't want to draw public attention to the fact that he'd deaf. He effectively cuts himself off from most means of communicating just because he doesn't want to deal with the unwelcome attention it would draw. This has shaped his entire life and I doubt he's going to listen to someone telling him that change is easy, or even that it's _possible_ when, for all that he knows, you are perfectly privileged."

Enjolras frowns at his phone. "But today is _proof_ that we can make a change."

"I'm not the one you need to convince," Combeferre says. "I'm going to bed. Try not to stay up too late, okay?"

"Yeah." Enjolras starts typing out a reply. "Good night."

«·»

He's exhausted in class the next day and Courfeyrac raises an eyebrow at him. "Wow, what kept you up last night?"

"Grantaire," Enjolras replies unthinkingly, and then look on Courfeyrac's face would be much more enjoyable if not for the fact that Enjolras is utterly mortified. "I mean, we were talking. Texting."

"How long?" Courfeyrac asks, but Enjolras is saved from having to admit that he'd stayed up until three when their lecture starts.

He has a two-hour break that afternoon and usually spends it in the library doing more work, but he pulls his phone out of his pocket this time, opening his text conversation with Grantaire without a second thought.

 **Enjolras:** I have a two-hour break. Are you busy?  
 **Grantaire:** I'm fingerpainting in the art department if you want to keep me company. I'll be done in half an hour and we can get coffee?  
 **Enjolras:** On my way.

When Enjolras gets to the art department building, he discovers that Grantaire isn't kidding about the fingerpainting. The canvas in front of him is covered in various coloured and from a distance, it looks like a painting of a jungle. As Enjolras walks closer, he realises that instead of brush strokes, the entire picture is made of colourful fingerprints.

"Wow," Enjolras spells out, because he can't remember the sign. Grantaire grins and teaches him. The other students in the room as immersed in their own work, but Enjolras is careful not to be too obvious as he repeats it back to Grantaire.

He pulls up a chair and watches Grantaire work, all thoughts of his own textbooks completely forgotten. This is a much more relaxing way to spend his time and it's amazing to watch. Grantaire clearly has a good idea of what he's doing because he'll dip his fingers into paint, add a few details, and then wipe his fingers dry so he can use another colour. If the painting was impressive when Enjolras arrived, it's completely breath-taking when he's done and cleaning everything up.

"Oh my fucking god, look at that," Enjolras overhears as he helps Grantaire put everything away. "That's just not fair. On what kind of world does that even make _sense_?"

Enjolras smiles to himself. Clearly the other students have noticed Grantaire's painting and are admiring it. He hears sighs of _beautiful_ and _can't be human_ from the other side of the room.

when Grantaire notices the smile and gives Enjolras a questioning look, he mouths, "The students over there are admiring your work."

Grantaire flushes, and it makes Enjolras' smile grow even wider as they walk out of the studio.

"Seriously though," a student mutters. "It's bad enough that he's unfairly talented, but he's got basically _the_ hottest boyfriend in the world? What a dick."

Enjolras is glad that he's walking behind Grantaire, who doesn't notice the way his eyes go wide, or hear his quiet cough.

He ignores it as Grantaire leads the way to a tiny, hole-in-the-wall café where the girl behind the counter beams at Grantaire when he walks in, signing hello and asking how he is. Enjolras is pleased to find that he can pick up a few signs, but most of the conversation i too fast to follow. The girl then turns to Enjolras with a smile and asks his name. He spells it out for her and asks for hers in return. Grantaire claps softly, looking proud.

Her name is Cherise and while she isn't deaf, they get through the rest of their conversation by signing. Grantaire teaches Enjolras how to order his latte and they sit at a small table in the corner. Grantaire drums his fingers on the table without rhythm and Enjolras tries not to stare at the dried paint stuck under his nails.

He's glad that they're getting along without a problem despite their argument last night, and he can't help but wonder if they're getting along _because_ of it. As much as Courfeyrac may joke about the fact that there is nothing in the world that Enjolras likes doing more than arguing, there are very few people he will stay up until three o'clock in the morning for, just for the sake of arguing.

Grantaire tries to teach Enjolras more complex signs and it's difficult to remember everything as Enjolras stumbles through a short conversation, but it's completely worth it for the way Grantaire's entire face lights up.

"Good!" Grantaire tells him. "Very good."

Cherise brings their drinks out, raising an eyebrow at Grantaire before she leaves. Enjolras doesn't understand the sign, but he reads her lips when she asks, "Date?"

Grantaire's face goes red and he shakes his head. Cherise laughs softly and turns away to leave. With her back turned to Grantaire, she says, "That's a real shame. You should fix that."

Enjolras turns to her, but she doesn't look back. Grantaire doesn't notice the exchange because he's still too embarrassed, and Enjolras smiles at him encouragingly.

"Sorry," Grantaire sighs hurriedly, meeting Enjolras' eyes with clear difficulty.

"It's okay," Enjolras assures him. 

They turn their attention to their drinks and as Grantaire sips at his mocha, he pulls his sketchbook out. Enjolras watches with fascination as Grantaire starts with broad pencil strokes on the blank page, which quickly turn into a detailed sketch of Cherise at the coffee machine. 

Grantaire catches him watching and turns it into an impromptu lesson on even more signs, drawing things and then showing Enjolras the signs for them. Enjolras has little choice but to improve if he wants to keep up with Grantaire, and Bahorel had been right when he said that the easiest way to learn is to keep practicing. By the time they finish their coffees, Enjolras' vocabulary has expanded considerably, and he has to rush back to campus because otherwise, he's going to miss his tutorial.

He's a couple of minutes late anyway, and he's fairly certain that it's the first time that has happened since he started school. It doesn't bother him as much as it should, and as he sits at his desk and watches a classmate give a presentation at the front of the room, he practices signs under the desk.

«·»

"Grantaire and I were mistaken for a couple today," Enjolras tells Combeferre as they eat dinner. "Twice."

Combeferre looks up from his plate, eyebrows raised. "Really?"

"He missed it the first time," Enjolras says, "but the second time, it was one of his friends, asking if we were on a date."

"And it stuck with you enough that you want to talk about it." Combeferre looks at him carefully. "Did it bother you?"

"What—no." Enjolras bites his lip in thought. "Or perhaps it did, in a sense? I—I think I was bothered by the fact that it _wasn't_ a date."

Combeferre puts his plate down on the table in front of them and turns fully to Enjolras. "Did I hear that correctly?"

Enjolras shrugs, keeping his eyes fixed on his food. "Is that so weird?"

"Considering that you only started talking to him the other day? Yes. And this isn't even including the fact that you haven't dated anyone since—well, _ever_."

"That's because nobody ever held my attention like this before," Enjolras replies. "He's so cynical that it makes me want to grind my teeth, but he's so intelligent, so talented, and he's already taught me so much."

"It sounds like a crush to me," Combeferre says doubtfully.

"You know I don't do things in halves," Enjolras says firmly. "I'm either interested in someone, or I'm not. And right now…"

"You're interested in Grantaire." Combeferre sighs. "Okay. I'm not going to tell you how to feel, Enjolras. Just as long as you don't _lose_ interest in Grantaire just as quickly. And that you're sure you're interested in him for the right reasons."

Enjolras doesn't ask what the _wrong_ reasons might be, because he can't possibly think of any. He gets his answers a few days later anyway, just before their next weekly meeting.

Bahorel arrives with Grantaire and promptly crosses the room, takes Enjolras by the arm and drags him outside."Do you want to explain what the fuck is going on?"

Enjolras blinks. "I'd like to ask the same of you."

Bahorel glowers at him. "Why don't you tell me why Grantaire's been going on about you non-stop for the past few days? Or maybe why, every time he's gone out during the day, he comes home and tells me that he's been with you?"

"I don't see a problem with that," Enjolras replies calmly.

"Well that's fucking funny, because I can see _lots_ of problems with it. Starting with the fact that you couldn't stand him last week. I can't help but wonder what little piece of information made you suddenly decide that he's worth your precious time."

Enjolras narrows his eyes. "What are you implying?"

"I'm saying," Bahorel has that threatening edge in his voice again, "I want to like you, man. Grantaire has a lot of good things to say about you, but if I find out that the only reason you're suddenly best buddies with him is because he's deaf… I swear, you are in for a _world_ of pain."

"It didn't even occur to me to spend time with him because he's deaf," Enjolras replies. "That's not why."

"It better not be," is all that Bahorel says, and walks back inside.

When Enjolras gets back upstairs, he finds Grantaire arguing with Bahorel. They're both signing quickly and angrily, and Enjolras has no idea what's going on. He gives Combeferre a questioning look, which makes him sigh and walk over to Enjolras' side.

"Grantaire didn't exactly appreciate the fact that Bahorel took you aside," Combeferre explains. "He doesn't appreciate anyone fighting his battles for him."

"You could understand all of that?" Enjolras asks, both impressed and envious.

"There's a visual dictionary online," Combeferre replies simply. "So I learned it. Thought they're both using quite a few signs that _aren't_ in the dictionary."

"Grantaire looks upset," Enjolras notes unhappily. "I don't understand why Bahorel would want to upset him."

Combeferre sighs heavily. "Nobody wants Grantaire to be hurt, alright? Not you, and not Bahorel either." 

Enjolras cannot dwell on the matter, because more poeple start arriving for the meeting. Grantaire and Bahorel settle at a table towards the back, sitting beside each other despite the fact that neither of them look particularly happy. Enjolras turns his attention to the matters at hand that he needs to cover during the meeting, but it's difficult not to glance in Grantaire's direction now and then, especially when he realises that Grantaire's looking at him every time, even when someone else is talking.

Over the course of the meeting, the hostility bleeds out of Bahorel and by the end of it, he and Grantaire and getting along just fine, subtly signing to each other in a way that Enjolras had completely missed before.

Grantaire pats Bahorel on the shoulder as he gets up from his seat and walks over to Enjolras. Combeferre and Feuilly both quickly excuse themselves from the conversation they were having with Enjolras.

"What are you doing for dinner?" Grantaire asks with a small smile, and it makes Enjolras' heart suddenly beat twice as fast as before.

"No plans," he replies, or tries to. He keeps messing up _plans_ until Grantaire's smile grows and he takes pity on Enjolras, taking his hands by the wrists and guiding them gently.

Grantaire's touch lingers on Enjolras' wrist before he snatches his hand away, his cheeks a faint red. 

"Have dinner with me," Enjolras signs, and Grantaire's eyes go wide.

"Where?"

"Anywhere. You decide."

Grantaire seems to consider this for a moment, and then finally signs. "Come with me."

Enjolras very deliberately doesn't look at anyone as he leaves the Musain with Grantaire, but Courfeyrac somehow manages to catch his eye anyway, and winks. Enjolras can feel his face heat, and he's glad that Grantaire is looking away.

Dinner itself is barely memorable, which Enjolras is sad for because the restaurant genuinely seems to be a good one, but he barely registers anything other than the way Grantaire reaches for his hand halfway through their meal and squeezes. They both go back to their food after that, but Enjolras head is a rush of thoughts, of emotions, and all he can think of is being done with his food so they can discuss this properly.

Or, that's what he _intends_ to do. Instead, the moment they leave the restaurant, he turns to Grantaire and signs, "Be my boyfriend?"

Grantaire's smile is answer enough, but Enjolras can't help the way he grins when he gets a very enthusiastic, " _Yes_."

He takes Grantaire's hand again, because he _can_ , bringing it up to his lips to kiss it. Grantaire laughs quietly, pulling Enjolras closer. They wrap their arms around each other and Grantaire is still smiling when they press their lips together. Enjolras knows that he is, too.

«·»

It goes well for a week. If they spent lots of time with each other before, it's nothing compared to the way they are now. They spend all of their free time together, to the point that all of their friends quickly learn to assume that they'll be together.

Enjolras makes a conscious effort not to be quite as bad as Marius is with Cosette, and it helps that they spend most of their time alone, out of sight of their friends. Enjolras likes kissing Grantaire; he likes the way Grantaire's fingers curl into his hair to hold him close, and the way they're both happy to sit in each other's arms, kissing until their lips are swollen.

"I have a surprise for you," Enjolras tells Grantaire excitedly as they walk to the Musain for their next weekly meeting, and doesn't elaborate, despite the questioning looks he gets. 

He waits until everyone's assembled in the meeting room in the Musain, ready for the meeting, and stands up at the front of the room, wordlessly drawing everyone's attention.

"I would like to make an announcement," Enjolras tells them, making eye contact with Grantaire before looking around the room.

"Ooh, announcements!" Courfeyrac rubs his hands together. "I like those. Is this announcement about Grantaire, by any chance?"

"No," Enjolras' face colours. "Not really. Kind of?"

Grantaire sits up, clearly paying attention now. Bahorel folds his arms on the desk in front of him, leaning forward with a raised eyebrow.

"I want to bring a new focus to our group," Enjolras tells everyone. "I think we need to start raising awareness about the deaf community—there are so many things that are gone ignored by the majority of people, there are accessibility issues that most don't even consider. We need to get more people thinking about these kinds of things—"

Enjolras is interrupted by a bottle smashing to the floor, from the back of the room. It's Grantaire, who has suddenly gotten to his feet. His expression is dark, and Bahorel looks absolutely _murderous_ beside him.

"Grantaire?" Enjolras frowns.

"Fuck you," Grantaire signs, turns on his heel, and leaves.

"What—" Enjolras steps forward, but Bahorel gets up and stands in his way, looming over him.

"You remember what I told you?" Bahorel asks slowly, as Grantaire runs down the stairs and out of the Musain. "I fucking _warned_ you about this, and you did it anyway."

"But I—"

"Save it," Bahorel spits, turning around and going after Grantaire.

Enjolras turns to Combeferre, completely lost, and flinches at the disapproval on his face.

"What?" Enjolras asks. "I'm trying to help—"

"You need to go after Grantaire," Combeferre tells him gently. "And think about why you've just upset him. I'll take care of rest of the meeting. Go."

Enjolras tries not to pay attention to the way everyone is staring at him on his way out. He climbs down the stairs and goes out onto the street, looking for Grantaire. He's not difficult to find; he's leaning against a wall with Bahorel, smoking.

"Grantaire…" he walks over, and Bahorel tenses. Grantaire stops Bahorel with a hand on his shoulder, and shrugs. "Grantaire, please."

"Give me one good reason why you think he'd want to talk to you," Bahorel growls. "Actually, better yet, you have one chance to tell me _why_ you've upset him, before I beat the shit out of you."

Enjolras hesitates, and sighs. "I'm only trying to help—"

"Wrong answer," Bahorel replies, and punches him.

Grantaire lets out an aborted cry of protest, his voice loud and rough. He pulls Bahorel away, standing in front of Enjolras with his hand raised. Enjolras touches his cheek and hisses in pain, but when he touches Grantaire's shoulder, he doesn't get a response immediately. Eventually, Grantaire turns around, his shoulders slumping, and signs, "You should leave."

Enjolras does, deciding not to go back into the Musain, and walking home instead. He curls up on the couch, still not quite sure what went wrong, not sure how he's hurt Grantaire, and that's how Combeferre finds him, half an hour later.

"Meeting was short today," Combeferre tells him quietly, and sits on the coffee table in front of the couch. "We need to talk."

"I guess so," Enjolras mumbles. "I did something stupid and that's bad enough, but I don't know _what_ I did, and that's even worse."

Combeferre sighs heavily. "Bahorel was worried about this when you and Grantaire suddenly started spending so much time together. He didn't want your interest in Grantaire to be solely because he's _deaf_."

"But it's not," Enjolras protests. "That's not why I like him so much. I like him because of the way we can discuss topics for hours when we want to, because of how sharp he is—"

"That may be the case," Combeferre tells him, "but that's not what it looks like right now. Not to the group, clearly not to Bahorel, if that bruise on your cheek is any indication, and definitely not to Grantaire."

"What does it look like, from your perspective?" Enjolras asks, his heart sinking. "I just—I care about Grantaire, and want to make the world a better place for him to live in. That's all."

"I don't doubt that you do, but it looks like you've reduced Grantaire down to nothing more than another one of your causes." Combeferre looks sad, even as he says it. "You know that Grantaire doesn't think very highly of himself. You've taken such an intense interest in him lately, only to group him with everyone else that you want to help. How important do you think that makes him feel right now?"

Enjolras covers his face with both his hands, and then hisses in pain as he presses down on the bruise he'd forgotten. "Fuck. I need to talk to Grantaire—I mean—"

"I know what you mean," Combeferre assures him. "And yes, you do."

"But he's going to have to want to _let me_." Enjolras can only imagine how long that will take.

«·»

It takes four days before Bahorel will even let Enjolras see Grantaire. Even then, he stands in the doorway of their apartment, glaring at him before finally grunting and stepping aside.

"I'm going out," Bahorel tells him, "but if you upset Grantaire, I'll hear about it. You won't want that."

"I won't upset him," Enjolras says firmly, but he doesn't know if he can consider it a promise when he's already unintentionally hurt Grantaire once.

Grantaire is sitting on the couch, his knees drawn to his chest to support his sketchbook, and Enjolras waits until Bahorel is gone before sitting down beside him. He waits, forcing himself to be patient as Grantaire acknowledges his presence with a nod and then continues to draw, not making eye contact with Enjolras even once.

With a quiet sigh, Enjolras pulls his phone out and goes into his messages, and flinches when he finds the message he'd typed out to Grantaire last night but never sent.

_R, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry and I'll repeat it as many times as you want me to. It was never my intention to hurt your feelings, or to reduce everything you are to me to yet another cause to fight for. I care for you, more than I can say, and I miss you. I'm lying awake right now because I can't stand the fact that I've hurt you so much. I think I l_

In his haste to delete the message, Enjolras' thumb hits send instead, and he watches with horror as it sends and, seconds later, Grantaire's phone buzzes on the table in front of them.

Grantaire picks it up and then pauses when he sees who it's from. He unlocks his phone, reading the entire message, before slowly turning to Enjolras.

"Is this a joke?"

"It was an accident," Enjolras signs desperately. "I was trying to delete it."

Grantaire puts his sketchbook down and rubs a hand over his face, sighing heavily. Finally, he signs, "I miss you too."

Enjolras manages a small smile at that, and picks up his phone again.

 **Enjolras:** Can I text you like this? I have a lot to say, and I don't want to get it wrong.

Grantaire shrugs, which Enjolras takes for permission. He continues typing.

 **Enjolras:** You're not another cause to me. You're important. I wanted to show you that but making an effort to make changes so that you wouldn't have to struggle to hide the fact that you're deaf all the time.

Grantaire frowns at that, and types out a reply.

 **Grantaire:** I've managed just fine until now. I don't need you fighting my battles. You're not going to change anything. Not in the long run. People will get bored. You will get bored, and you'll find another cause and you'll leave, and I'll still be here, and I'll still be deaf, and nothing's going to change.

"No," Enjolras signs vehemently. "That's not going to happen. I care about you. I still want you to be my boyfriend."

"I don't want to be your deaf boyfriend," Grantaire replies, and balls his hands into fists, deliberating, before he adds, "I just want to be Grantaire. Your boyfriend. I don't want to be a project. I don't want you to fight for me, I don't want you to think you have to _change_ anything. "If you don't want me like this, then you don't want me."

"I want you," Enjolras replies. "Like this. I'm sorry."

With a quiet sigh, Grantaire takes Enjolras' hand and squeezes, the way he had nearly two weeks ago in the restaurant. Enjolras squeezes back and Grantaire sighs, shaking his head and shuffling closer, to lean into Enjolras' side.

Bahorel finds them curled up in each other's arms on the couch when he comes home fifteen minutes later, and rolls his eyes at both of them. He speaks as he signs, "I don't even know why I'm surprised."

Grantaire snickers—Enjolras can feel it just as much as he can hear it—and sticks his middle finger up at Bahorel as he walks past them and to his room.

"I'm glad you worked it out," Bahorel says, softer, at the door to his room. It's directed at Enjolras, who can only nod in reply, the words _me too_ stuck in his throat.

«·»

**Grantaire:** I really fucking like you, okay.  
 **Enjolras:** Well, I really fucking like you too.  
 **Grantaire:** :D  
 **Grantaire:** But no, really. B dragged me to one of those meetings for the hell of it and I couldn't understand a thing when everyone was talking at once.  
 **Enjolras:** But you kept coming.  
 **Grantaire:** Three guesses why ;)  
 **Enjolras:** Alcohol, Bahorel,  
 **Grantaire:** …  
 **Grantaire:** ………  
 **Grantaire:** ? Are you still there?

 **Enjolras:** Sorry, I had to go grin into a pillow.  
 **Grantaire:** Fuck, Enjolras.  
 **Grantaire:** I think I love you.  
 **Enjolras:** DAMN IT I WAS GOING TO SAY IT FIRST.  
 **Grantaire:** Whoa.  
 **Grantaire:** Sorry.  
 **Grantaire:** Are you mad?? I'm sorry :(((

 **Enjolras:** Don't be. I'm not mad. Had to grin into the pillow again.  
 **Grantaire:** dshdhdkld  
 **Grantaire:** You're going to kill me.  
 **Enjolras:** I hope not.  
 **Enjolras:** (I KNOW I love you.)  
 **Enjolras:** :)  
 **Grantaire:** Dead.  
 **Enjolras:** I hope not.  
 **Enjolras:** I'd better come over and check. Just in case.

 **Bahorel:** fUCK YOU GUYS THINK YOU COULD GIVE ME A LITTLE WARNING NEXT TIME??????????

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually know LSF myself, and I found [this site](http://www.sematos.eu/lsf.html) and [this video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5kqhrLAz2n8) very useful when writing this.


End file.
